


Hatari Hospitality

by VenatorNoctis



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Canon, sharing food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26307421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenatorNoctis/pseuds/VenatorNoctis
Summary: Reyson wakes uncertain where he is. The air smells of spices and leather, and a clear tenor voice is singing a galdr he doesn't know. He takes a deep breath and someone puts a hand to his forehead, warm and rough but not nearly as large as Tibarn's.
Relationships: Nailah/Rafiel (Fire Emblem), Nailah/Rafiel/Reyson (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6
Collections: RelationShipping 2020





	Hatari Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azurrys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurrys/gifts).



The flight to Hatari is more tiring than Reyson expects. Of course the distance was plain on the map, and the name "Desert of Death" is unpleasantly clear about how hospitable the land is, but still. He and his hawk escorts have made the journey over several days, flying in the morning and evening and taking shelter from the extreme conditions of midday and night. By the time they reach the outskirts of the city, he can feel the ache in his wings and thrumming all the way down his back. The sun is hot above, glaring up reflected from the sand below, and Reyson's mouth feels sticky and too dry. Perhaps they should have stopped to rest an hour ago, the last time there was enough of a rock outcropping to provide a scrap of shade, but they were so close, and he just wanted to be _done_ with traveling.

The city has stone walls around its perimeter, scarcely darker than the sand, the great blocks weathered and pitted. There's a gate on the west side with one wolf laguz standing guard, coming to attention as Reyson and his escort bank lower.

His landing is clumsy and uncomfortable: somehow he misjudged the distance and hits the sand too hard, impact jarring up his legs and making him stumble. It's so bright, and his head is swimming.

Janaff lands beside him and puts a hand on his arm to steady him, which Reyson allows for a moment before he's steady enough to shake it off and walk up to the gate. "Good day," he says to the gate guard. "I am Reyson, brother to Rafiel." His lips and fingertips are tingling. "I am here as an emissary from the kingdom of Phoenicia, to the west."

"You're earlier than we expected," the guard says. "Welcome to Hatari." He's still talking but the words recede into the distance as dark spots crowd Reyson's vision. He feels light and heavy both at once, maybe not in the same places, and it gets so dark, and then he doesn't feel much of anything.

* * *

Reyson wakes uncertain where he is. The air smells of spices and leather, and a clear tenor voice is singing a galdr he doesn't know. He takes a deep breath and someone puts a hand to his forehead, warm and rough but not nearly as large as Tibarn's.

"Are you awake?" A woman's voice, and after a moment Reyson manages to place it as Nailah's.

He winces. "Not quite the entrance I intended to make."

The galdr stops in soft laughter. "But you made an entrance at all, after crossing the Desert of Death in a small party none of whom knew the territory. You are both fortunate and determined, my brother."

Reyson blinks until his surroundings come clear: he's in a large bed with gauzy fabric hanging around its carved posts, in a room decorated with leather masks and beadwork. Rafiel sits by a window, where purple twilight outlines him; on the other side of the room, an oil lamp on a wall shelf gives a faint warmer light. Nailah gives him a wry little smile when he meets her eye.

"You were heat sick," she says. "It's happened to plenty of us, don't worry—nearly all the young pups have to test their limits against the desert once or twice before they understand how little leniency it has. How do you feel?"

"Thirsty," Reyson says. He sits up gingerly. "Hungry." It's a relief that Nailah treats his collapse with such frankness, with so little dismay. He may not be as sturdy as a hawk—ah, but that's another concern. "What happened to my companions?"

"We got them out of the sun and made sure they had plenty of water, and they're doing well." Nailah hands him a stoneware cup of water with a few bruised leaves floating in it; mint, Reyson discovers when he takes a sip. He drains the whole thing without taking it from his lips, the welcome coolness spreading through him as though he's parched soil welcoming the return of the rain.

"They had dinner with the rest of the tribe," Rafiel adds. "But I thought you might appreciate company when you woke, so we waited."

Reyson nods. "Thank you." He tries to compose himself; he's here to represent his people, however informal the circumstances have turned out to be. "I would appreciate that indeed, and I would not keep you waiting any longer."

They both rise, and Nailah ducks out the door while Rafiel offers Reyson a hand getting out of bed. He looks so comfortable here—of the three of them he's always been the most serene, but there is a difference between being merely reserved and being grounded, and right now he seems the latter. Reyson gives him a smile, squeezes his hand gently.

"Here, have a seat," Rafiel says. "It shouldn't take long for Nailah to hunt down tonight's cook." 

The low table seems at first awkward for bird laguz, but Reyson follows Rafiel's example in the way he shrugs his wings out behind him, and then it's comfortable enough. There's a pitcher of more bruised-mint water on the table, and Rafiel is pouring for all of them when Nailah returns with a tray holding three covered bowls.

"Still warm," she says with satisfaction as she sets the tray in the middle of the table. She takes one of the bowls and lifts the lid off, and the smell of savory spices makes Reyson's stomach grumble.

He takes one for himself; the bowl has a rich tomato-based sauce full of round cakes that turn out to be a mixture of rice and soft mashed beans, studded throughout with chopped nuts. The spices are warm and fragrant, and the tangy sauce complements the mild beans well. "This is delicious," he says. "I'm surprised to find a cuisine like this among a people as carnivorous as wolves."

Nailah grins. "He's been working on the cooks for a while," she says.

Rafiel nods. "I think I confused them badly at first. _You want meatballs without the meat in them?_ But it's worked out well in the end."

"I hope they'll teach some of the hawks the recipe, when your tribe moves west," Reyson says.

"I'm sure they'll be happy to," Nailah answers. 

For the next little while they spend most of their attention on the meal, devouring their food while it's still warm. Reyson takes the opportunity to look around a little more, noticing the little details of space that's been lived in: a set of beads at the bedside that he's sure he's seen Nailah wear, a staff of pale wood carved with heron-like wings, a dresser not quite closed and full of spare linens. He swallows, considering his words.

"Do I mistake this—that you haven't brought me to guest quarters, but to your own home?" he asks. "You gave me your own bed to recover in?"

"As emissary, you would have been welcome to our bed in any case," Nailah says. Her voice has a low purr to it and her eye glitters in the lamplight. "It's a matter of hospitality here."

"To... give up your home..?" Reyson isn't sure he understands correctly, but the other option...

"To share it," Rafiel says. "To welcome a visiting dignitary with open arms in every sense."

Reyson looks between them: beautiful Rafiel, lost for decades and cut off from the forest but still the most perfect heron Reyson has ever known, and proud Nailah, wild in appearance but so devoted to her people and to his brother. "It isn't a tradition we have in the west," he says, and he wonders even as he says it whether it was once, whether it died out there after the Flood or only developed here more recently— "but if you can be patient with my inexperience, I'm glad to learn." 

He offers them his hands; Nailah takes his left and Rafiel his right.

"We can discuss the practical reasons for your visit in the morning," Nailah says. "Tonight, let us show you all our hospitality."

**Author's Note:**

> The dinner they're having is strongly inspired by this: https://thecaspianchef.com/2020/08/13/kufteh-berenji-rice-and-fava-bean-meatballs/#more-6301 - meatballs that you can in fact make without the meat if you have a vegetarian bird at the table.


End file.
